He rubbed at the ache in his chest as he forced the food down his gullet. Jake didn’t remember ever having to work so hard just to get a woman to talk to him before. He had a mirror, and he knew they found him attractive. It wasn’t hard to get some company for a night. But he didn’t just want Blondie for the night. He was drawn to her in a way that went much deeper than sex.
Butterflies fought to escape her rib cage as Olivia tread down the busy downtown street toward Love You a Latte. It was a small artisan coffee shop with fair trade beans, run by two women married happily to each other. The walls were painted purple, the furniture an eclectic mix of bistro tables and overstuffed pieces perfect for lounging. Striding with a confidence she didn’t truly feel, Olivia made her way through the space. Tuxedo Mask had texted her a few minutes before five asking her what she wanted to drink, and letting her know he was in the space upstairs. Upstairs was quieter, but it also put her pretty far from the door.
She chastised herself as she made her way up the industrial staircase. He’d already proven to be a gentleman at the convention. The upper level boasted a cozy gas fireplace. She looked around the room, but there were no guys with black hair upstairs that looked like her Tuxedo Mask. Confused, she did another sweep, and her eyes landed on a coffee table where a single red rose lay. She drew closer, and saw the signature half-face harlequin mask next to it. A suit jacket lay across the back of one armchair. It had to be her Tuxedo Mask, but where was he?
She smoothed her black pencil skirt as she sat down, then crossed her legs. The red pump at the end of her foot twitched as she fiddled with her matching blouse, waiting for his return. She must have passed him in the line downstairs. Which meant he knew she was here —
“One iced vanilla latte for the Moon Princess?”
Her low ponytail swung as she turned in her chair. “You!” Olivia gawked. Standing there, looking hotter than he had any right to, was the asshole from the work picnic. He towered over her, his tailored white button-down shirt hugging his muscles. It was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. He set their drinks on the table, then held out his hand.
“Jake Abernathy.”
She hesitated, but shook his hand, and watched him through narrow eyes as he sat down across from her. “Olivia. Olivia Lundholm.”
“Your last name is Swedish, right? That explains the Nobel Gundam shirt.”
She cocked her head to the side, trying to figure him out. “You made fun of that shirt, if I remember correctly?”
He sighed and rubbed his hands together. “I was trying to tell you I liked it without outing myself in front of Tony.”
“I’d say you failed.” Her arms crossed themselves as she leaned back. “Is that why you approached me at the con?”
“Yeah. The con was safer territory. Work events are … not. Not when you work with the sports guys.”
The talent had to deal with an even more cutthroat career ladder than a graphic designer did. One wrong social media post and their jobs went up in smoke. Olivia lowered her gaze and picked up her drink.
“I apologize for the way I reacted in the break room, then.” She took a sip and relished the sweet, cold hit to her caffeine system.
“No need to apologize, you were working with the knowledge you had at the time.” His hands raised to deflect her words, then reached for his coffee. She took the time to study him a bit closer. He sat on the edge of his chair, his brown hair mussed as if he had been running his hands through it. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Olivia blinked. Was henervousaround her?
“Relax, Jake. I’m not going to bite.”
He leaned back slowly, then some of his swagger seemed to come back. If he was nervous now, could he handle her family?
“Are you sure you’re up for this? I can tell my mom it didn’t work out, and you’d be off the hook.”
“It was my idea. Do you not want me to come?”
She watched the flames dance in the gas fireplace, her thoughts spinning. It would be easier to get her mom to back off if she looked like she had some kind of romantic prospect. And he was easy on the eyes. Plus, he did apologize, twice, for what he’d said about her shirt.
And he was a fellow nerd, despite his job. How many times had she been judged based on her appearance? Olivia hadn’t been raised to be a hypocrite.
“No, let’s do this.”
“Okay then.” He raised his coffee to those full lips and took a sip. “So where is this reunion? And when is it?”
Olivia put her drink down with a sigh. “It’s in Virginia Beach, at my parents’ house. Saturday after next. Picnic starts around three o’clock and goes till the wee hours of the morning. When it gets dark, they light the fire pit.”
He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Let me text my assistant coach really quick and see if she can handle the game that day.” He whipped out his phone and started texting.
“What do you play?”
Jake looked up from his phone and gave her a certified panty-melting grin. “I coach peewee football. Our games are Saturday mornings.”
Olivia’s ovaries spasmed. “How old are they?”
“They range from nine to twelve.” His fingers kept flying across the screen. “Okay, we’re good. She’ll cover for me.”
